


Sacred Garden

by Amorphe_Hexe



Category: Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4412699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorphe_Hexe/pseuds/Amorphe_Hexe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a hobby - for Prince Arthas Menethil, that hobby was gardening, and it was less a hobby, and more a special interest. His garden was his sanctuary, and from the moment he planted his first seed, until the last time he left it, it knew all his secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacred Garden

Sometimes, Sylvanas hated being cooped up in the Undercity.  
  
Sometimes, when the people of the city were all either asleep, or concentrating on other things, she would slip out and into the ruins above and explore. Part of her was definitely still a ranger, and part of her definitely needed to see everything she could, out in the open, away from the sewers and the grumbling and the cackling apothecaries.  
  
On one such occasion, she was exploring the castle proper, when she came upon a room she hadn’t been in before. The door was locked, but the wood of it was rotting and the hinges were rusted. She easily broke it down. Inside, she found what appeared to be flowerpots and window boxes, arranged on platforms around the room. The room itself appeared to have been some kind of large, converted balcony. Large panes of stained glass, depicting epic battles and heroic deeds, made up all but the wall the door was set in, as well as the ceiling.  
  
Each pot and window box had the long-since-dead remains of plants in them. In one corner was a large wooden cabinet. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she went to examine it. Inside was what appeared to be a ledger, written in fancy - if a little rushed and lazy - Common. It detailed dates of planting, dates of first growth, dates of harvesting, which plants where where - there were even drawings of the plants described in the margins.  
  
She set the ledger down. Also inside of the cabinet was a set of gardening tools, several small boxes containing seeds that were probably no longer viable, and a silver box, tarnished with age. For some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, her hands trembled as she opened it. Within was a lock of what appeared to be white horse hair, a shining gold ring with a sapphire set in it, and a drawing of a young woman, the lines faded with age and warped in places, as if water had been dropped on the page.  
  
She recognized the face of the woman, and then she realized who this garden must have belonged to.

* * *

  
  
Arthas sat sullenly on the back of a large horse, arms crossed tightly against his chest. Varian, sat behind him, had control of the reins, as he was older and therefore had been deemed more capable of controlling the animal. On either side of them rode Terenas, head held high like he was sitting still, rather than on the back of a great warhorse, and Uther, who kept tossing Arthas accusatory stares.  
  
He hadn’t stolen from the kitchens. This time.  
  
He didn’t really want to go anywhere, he’d wanted to drag Varian to go see the young horse he was so fond of, despite Varian saying that he had seen the horse enough in the past week. Instead, the two youths had been roped into a tour of the farms surrounding the capital city during planting season.  
  
They were approaching the first farm now, and the horses slowed to a full stop. Arthas jumped off the horse and attempted to bolt, and Uther, expecting the outburst, grasped him around the waist.  
  
“None of that, boy. You’ll act properly. Don’t embarrass yourself.” He gently set Arthas down. The prince glowered up at him and brushed himself off before moving to stand sullenly by Varian. The older youth leaned over to mutter in Arthas’ ear.  
  
“It was a nice try.”  
  
Arthas punched his arm, and Varian grinned.  
  
They were led to where some crops were being planted, and despite himself, Arthas found himself entranced by the young farmer planting the seeds some distance away, while the older man, probably his father, told the royals what they were planting. Taking a chance that his father, Varian, and Uther were preoccupied, Arthas moved over to get a closer look.  
  
He carefully stepped over the rows towards the young man, only a couple years older than Arthas, who stopped his work as the prince approached and bowed respectfully.  
  
“What, ah…?” Arthas asked, and his face coloured. Leave it to him to lose his words. Instead, he gestured towards the rows, and made a frustrated sound in his throat. His mind was blank. His heart sped up. He was embarrassing himself. His mood started to plummet-  
  
“I’m planting pumpkins, your Highness. We planted beans two weeks ago. They’ve already started to sprout.”  
  
The young man’s voice brought Arthas directly out of the pit he’d been falling into, and he was thrilled. However, the young farmer looked halfway between uncomfortable and scared. Arthas forced his smile wider when he realized that he didn’t look as enthusiastic as he suddenly felt.  
  
“Can.. can you show me? I want to see.” There. Words. Finally. The farmer’s fear faded, though he still looked uncomfortable as he replied.  
  
“Of course, your Highness. If you’ll follow me, and, ah… be careful of the rows, please.”  
  
Arthas followed him across the fields, forgetting his earlier reluctance. When they stopped, he looked down at his feet, and let out a loud gasp of joy.  
  
Small sprouts, each topped with tiny leaves, were settled in a row. Arthas crouched to get a better look at them waving his hands about just below his chin excitedly. He exclaimed, “They’re cute! These will be beans?” The farmer crouched next to him. He was smiling now.  
  
“Yes, your Highness. The pumpkin sprouts will look different, and so will wheat, and melons, though those’ll look a little like pumpkins, and—“  
  
“Arthas!”  
  
The prince flinched at Uther’s voice as the paladin approached. Arthas could tell from his heavy footsteps that he was not pleased. Still, in a practiced motion, he stood and turned to look at the man, a haughty expression on his face as he began, “Uther, are you trampling these poor—“  
  
Uther stopped and cut him off sternly, “None of that. We’re going to the next farm. Don’t wander off like that again.”  
  
Arthas huffed and turned back to the young farmer, who bowed respectfully. Arthas opened his mouth, but he’d lost his words again.  
  
“Uh. Name?”  
  
“Tellson. Marcus Tellson. M’ father’s Jasper.”  
  
Arthas smiled and, before Uther could get any more agitated, he said, “Nice to meet you, Marcus,” and turned around and breezed past Uther as if he had just won a very complex game.  
  
They visited another four farms, and at each one, Arthas wandered off to see what was already sprouting. Each time, Uther got more and more agitated, Varian got more and more amused, and Arthas got more and more incoherent, until, after the last farm, he lost all ability to speak and was reduced to giggles of delight and flapping his hands about. When they returned to the castle, he immediately ran to the library, and, with some difficulty, managed to convey to the old woman who kept record of the books there what he wanted to read.  
  
“Books about plants, and growing plants?” She looked at him, puzzled, and he nodded, a wide grin on his face to show his excitement and enthusiasm. The librarian looked at him dubiously, then shuffled off into the bookcases. Arthas trailed behind her, still waving his hands excitedly. When he left the library, it was while carrying a large pile of books.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Terenas!”  
  
The king looked up from his meal towards his old friend, who was wringing his hands as he approached, and smiled, “Uther, why so urgent? Did something happen?”  
  
“Your son happened. The boy has become obsessed with growing plants, and despite my best efforts, has gotten ahold of seeds and pots and seems to be determined to be gardening!”  
  
Terenas blinked, and with practiced grace, managed not to laugh.  
  
“I fail to see an issue with this, Uther.”  
  
“It’s not princely, Terenas. And he’s skipping his lessons to do it.”  
  
Terenas sighed, mirth gone. “Whether or not it’s princely is of little concern to me. Bringing hot tea to guardsmen on watch in winter and helping the kitchen staff wash dishes isn’t ‘princely’ either, but that doesn’t stop him. Already, he loves his people. Let him garden, but, ah, try your best to at least get him into his lessons.” The king sighed again, then continued, “I’ll speak with him about it.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“You lot are great. You’re great.”  
  
Varian heard Arthas talking as he passed the doorway to a balcony, and, curious, decided to see who he was speaking to. He popped his head through the doorway, but all he saw was Arthas, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of several pots.  
  
“You’re going to grow big, and strong, and you’ll be the best food crops ever, and you’ll feed my people.”  
  
Varian quietly backed back into the castle, hands clasped over his mouth. It would be rude to laugh at the other prince. It might even be considered mean. But he was talking to his potted plants. Like they were people. He almost managed to contain his laughter.  
  
“You’ll be the best. You’ll grow strong, and I’ll help you! I’ll do everything I can to help you!”  
  
Varian lost his composure and doubled over laughing, unable to hold it in any longer.  
  
Arthas could hear him. Arthas knew why he was laughing. He lowered his voice.  
  
“Don’t worry. He just doesn’t understand.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“They’re dying! I-I don’t know what to do, but I think they’re dying, they’re wilting, please, please help them….”  
  
Arthas begged the priest he’d cornered in the chapel with tears in his eyes. The young woman, barely out of her training, gently put her hands forward, not touching him, but casting calming Light over him.  
  
“I don’t know much about plants, Prince Arthas, I’m sorry. Have you, ah… They’re in pots, right, are the pots too small?”  
  
Arthas made a frustrated whimpering sound. “I don’t know, I’m, I-I’m scared, please save them, please…”  
  
The priest bit her bottom lip. The young prince seemed to be attempting to pull out his hair over this, despite her calming aura. She decided to ask one more question.  
  
“Ah, Prince Arthas, I’m sure you have, but… You did remember to water them, right?”  
  
Arthas’ tears stopped abruptly and he gave her a slightly shocked, and slightly horrified look. After several seconds, he turned on his heel and bolted, shouting the most unprincely obscenities at the top of his lungs.  
  


* * *

  
  
With a bit of watering and praying, Arthas managed to revive his plants, but then, he was encountered with another problem.  
The pots were too small. His father was too busy to ask him for more, and Uther had already told him that he wouldn't help with this “foolish and unprincely hobby”, and the prince was at wit’s end. He was terrified that his poor plants were suffering. As he sat by the doorway, fighting off tears as he looked at the plants that had obviously outgrown their pots, he heard a voice behind him.  
  
“Prince Arthas?”  
  
He turned to see one of the kitchen staff standing there in front of him, a crate on the floor behind her. Another member of the staff stood by the crate, a smile on his face.  
  
“We heard you ask Sir Uther if you could get bigger pots for your plants, your Highness, and since he said no, the staff and I- well, we scraped together some extra money between us, and when I went out to market this morning, I bought you some pots.”  
  
Arthas walked past her and looked into the crate. It was filled to the top with large flower pots. A broad grin broke across Arthas’ face, and he started flapping his hands in delight. He lost his ability to speak, but the enthusiasm with which he hugged both servants was a definite indicator that he did, in fact, appreciate the gift.  
  
He got a stern talking-to by Uther for skipping his next lesson to move his plants into larger pots, but he was happy.  
  


* * *

  
“And, you’ll never believe this, but my brother gardens.”  
  
Jaina blinked at Calia, and smiled pleasantly. “No, I’m afraid I don’t believe you. He doesn’t seem much like the gardening type.”  
  
Calia giggled. “I know, he doesn’t, does he, but.. Oh, come on, I’ll show you. Last year he was devastated when a heavy rain washed out most of his plants, so Father had the balcony he was using covered with stained glass. It’s very pretty, but…” She giggled again. Jaina kept the same pleasant smile on her face.  
  
Calia stopped at a doorway and peered through the keyhole, then looked at Jaina with her right index finger to her lips. The sound of a pleasant voice singing could be heard on the other side. Calia gently eased the door open, then waved Jaina over. The girl moved quietly to look through the doorway.  She had to stifle a gasp.  
  
Shelves and platforms were stacked and filled with pots and troughs full of flowering and food-bearing plants. Arthas was moving between plants with a bucket, watering them while singing. Several more buckets were set by the door, each appearing to be filled with water.  
  
Jaina was stunned. When she’d seen Arthas up until this point, he’d been sullenly trying to catch her eye over dinner while looking uncomfortable, or when he arrived late to prayer services the first day she’d been there. Here, in this garden, he looked peaceful, happy - even if he wasn’t smiling with his lips, there was a distinct smile in his eyes. Quietly, she backed up, and, for once in her life, didn’t trip. Her and Calia got away without making any sound at all.  
  


* * *

  
  
Arthas had run away from his own birthday.  
  
Granted, it had only been the private party for the royal family alone, not his actual coming-of-age party, which he had managed to survive through without completely freaking out. Of course his birthday had come during a downswing in his mood. Of course.  
  
“I’m not the perfect prince they want me to be,” he said to his various flowers, “and I never will be, will I? I’ll never be a good king, either. They shouldn’t be giving me the throne anyways, Calia’s older, and we already know she’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she doesn’t do the flailing thing that distracts everyone, or pull her hair when she’s anxious. I don’t think she even gets anxious anymore. They should give it to her. She’ll be a good queen. I’m just a waste of space.”  
  
The flowers, of course, didn’t respond. They sat, silently, and after a few moments, Arthas smiled sadly.  
  
“I know you all would never judge me, would you? Even if you can’t talk, you always listen to me. You’re happy I’m here, right? …Right?”  
  
The prince sighed.  
  
“Maybe I’ll just go riding for a while.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Arthas all but collapsed with his back to the now-closed door to the balcony, and let out one singular sob.  
  
He was almost finished with his training.  
  
He wasn’t finished enough.  
  
He couldn’t save Invincible.  
  
Held in his trembling hands was a large chunk of the horse’s beautiful white tail, which had been miraculously unmarred by the horse’s blood, tied with a piece of crude string. Arthas struggled to his feet again and made his way slowly to the cabinet in the corner where he kept his gardening tools. He opened the door and, reverently, set the horsehair on the empty shelf.  
  
Out here, he knew it would be safe.  
  
And Invincible would have loved his garden.  
  
Arthas slept in the garden for a couple weeks, unable to deal with his responsibilities or training for grief.

* * *

  
  
“I’m very pleased, Lady Proudmoore, that you volunteered to come.”  
  
“The pleasure is all mine, Prince Arthas.”  
  
They exchanged pleasantries like mere acquaintances to keep up appearances, though Arthas’ heart was beating out of his chest, and he felt like his father’s eyes would burn through the back of his skull.  
  
As soon as he was allowed to, he followed Jaina out, and caught her arm, dragging her down a side hall to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent over to press his lips to hers, but he pulled away with a practiced grin.  
  
“Jaina, would you like to see my favorite place in the castle?”  
  
“Of course I would, Arthas.”  
  
She expected him to take her to his own room, or the chapel, perhaps, or some secret hiding place. Instead, he led her openly through the castle, though he didn’t touch her, and up to his garden. When Jaina walked in behind him, she found herself stunned by it. When she had been younger, and seen him peacefully watering plants, she had thought it lovely, if a little quaint. Now, the whole balcony was covered in plants. There were even some hanging in mid-air, suspended in magical pots, like what many mages had in Dalaran.  
  
Arthas rushed off to the corner and busied himself with the cabinet while Jaina tried to take it all in. He withdrew a large silver box, and, checking to make sure that what was supposed to be in it was still present, turned to walk back to Jaina. Still, he hesitated, trepidation striking him and filling his heart with fear.  
  
What if she says no? What if she laughs in my face? What if-  
  
He grimaced. No what-ifs. I’m going to do this. He held the box in one hand, the other behind his back, twisting up to tug at his hair in distress.  
  
“Jaina?”  
  
She looked away from a large, flowering plant in the corner, and he lost his nerve entirely. Instead, he forced the hand pulling his hair to his side and plucked a purple flower off of one of his plants, then sat down where he stood, indicating that Jaina should sit near him. She all but sat in his lap, leaning against him. As she did, he took and twisted the stem of the flower into a small ring shape, and when she leaned back against him, he took her left hand and slipped the flower ring onto her ring finger.  
  
Jaina laughed softly and looked up at him. Her joy gave him bravery, and he picked up the silver box again.  
  
“Jaina?” he inquired again, and this time, he kept going, “Do you like that ring?”  
  
“I do. It’s lovely.”  
  
“Ah… How would you feel if, ah… I gave you a different one? A better one? One that, uh…”  
  
Great. There went his words again. While he fumbled about helplessly, she sat, patiently waiting. She’d grown used to his sudden non-verbal moments, and simply leaned against him, snuggled against him comfortably, her own body fitting against his perfectly.  
  
After a few minutes of false starts, he tried again. “Jaina, how would you feel if I gave you a ring that symbolized us being… bound? Ah, engaged?”  
  
Her simple joy changed to stunned confusion.  
  
“Why do you ask, Arthas?”  
  
With trembling hands, he opened the box, and took out it’s contents - a small gold ring with a perfect, stunning sapphire set in it.  
  
“B— Because, I’m asking you if, i-if you would marry me.”  
  
Jaina stared at the ring in his hands - so tiny, obviously meant to fit her dainty hands and not his much larger ones - with her mouth open in shock. She hadn’t expected a proposal. She hadn't expected anything like this. At all.  
  
For a moment, Arthas was terrified that she would turn him down. However, after about thirty seconds of silent staring, Jaina lifted her hands, and removed the flower ring he had made, holding out her hand to him.  
  
“Of course. W-we’ll. We’ll have to discuss it with our parents, b-but… If they agree, then yes, Arthas. I would marry you.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Why does everything bad happen in winter?”  
  
Arthas looked down at the drawing he had done of Jaina. His tears spilled on it, warping the paper, before he could tuck it into the silver box with the ring she had given back to him when he broke off their engagement.  
  
“I fucked this one up. I fucked this one up a lot.” He took a deep breath and scratched idly at the bandages around his wrists. He supposed he was fortunate that most people didn’t see him without long sleeves or armor on. There would be a lot of questions asked if anyone saw those wounds.  
  
“I. Jaina. I’m so sorry. I hope someday you forgive me. I’m sorry.”  
  
For the second time in his life, Arthas was so overwhelmed with grief that he curled up to sleep in his garden, sobbing into his hands amongst the wilted flowers.  
  


* * *

  
  
Arthas locked the door to his garden as he walked out. He’d promised them he’d be back soon.  
  
He had every intention of being back soon.  
  
The next time someone would set foot in that garden, it would be a woman he had killed who saw it, and the belongings left in the supply cabinet would be the only clue that it had been a young prince, whose life had ended too early, that had kept it.


End file.
